Punishment
by fanficsofclare
Summary: When in a relationship with a certain consulting detective, it's best not to flirt with anyone else. Unless you want to be punished. BDSM


John had it coming, he really did. He deserved this. It was his own fault, he only had himself to blame. He shouldn't have done what he did, and was willing to take any punishment.

So when he woke up, arms restrained behind him to the bedposts, legs tied against his stomach, he wasn't all that surprised. Sherlock was sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed, wearing that delicious purple shirt.

"I see you're finally awake." Sherlock stood up, walking to the edge where Johns head was pressed back into the pillows. He smoothed a soft thumb down Johns cheek; after all, punishment was still part of his love for John. His thumb brushed over Johns lips.

"Do you understand what you have done?"

"Yes Sir." John said.

"Tell me what you did, and why it was wrong." Sherlock demanded, his caring hand leaving Johns flushed face.

"I was flirting with a woman, and she gave me her number." John breathed out, eyes following Sherlock.

John heard the loud smack before he felt the sharp bolt of pain to his inner thigh, which burned red. He couldn't stop the yelp that was pulled from his throat.

"And why do you think that was wrong?" Sherlock asked, rubbing the sore skin, softly and soothingly.

"Because I don't need anyone else. I've got you and that's all that matters."

Sherlock bent down, planting a soft kiss on the red skin. He stayed bent over, only moving his eyes up to meet John.

"Say it." He kissed Johns thigh again. "Say it, it's on the edge of your tongue."

John shook his head, no. He wouldn't say it, couldn't say it. It was only three words but he wouldn't say in unless he was sure he meant it. His silent protest earned him a second slap, harder, on his left thigh. His body jerked against the restraints, the rope digging and burning into skin.

"Can you even begin to imagine what I'm going to do to you?" Sherlock walked away, reaching for something John couldn't see.

"No, sir. I'm excited." Johns voice shook as he spoke. Anticipation building in his stomach, bubbling and heating up throughout his body. His thighs were still burning, the fact they were strained against his stomach didn't help to ease the throbbing pain.

"Excited? Oh, John. You will not enjoy this. I will, but it will be nothing but pain and torment for you." Sherlock laughed, picking up an object and facing John.

"Is that a-" Whatever John thought it was, he was silenced as the gag was forced into his mouth, tightly latched around his jaw. His muffled cry came out as a mixture of a protest and a moan. The red ball spread his mouth apart, causing his suddenly dry lips to crack and bleed.

The sight was driving Sherlock insane, and it took all of his strength not to fuck John then and there. He took a deep breath, eyes flicking over Johns trapped and helpless body, knowing full well that John was completely in his power; that it was just what John wanted, what John needed.

Sherlock walked back to the table, picking up and long cylindrical item, with three buttons and a bumpy curved surface. Johns eyes lit up as the object came into view, the length and width making the situation seem daunting.

Sherlock placed it down gently on the bed, while his free hands ghosted over Johns thighs, moving down to the tight ring on muscles. His first finger slipped in almost effortlessly, after being so used to Sherlocks never satisfied need for John. John struggled to rock back against the long slender finger, desperate for some relief, the ropes allowing barely any movement at all.

The second teasing finger pressed in, the pair brushing against his prostrate, ripping a deep moan from Johns gagged mouth. Sherlock scissored his fingers, moving them in and out achingly slow.

"Do you know what you are? Do you know what you mean to me?" Sherlock asked, moving his gaze to Johns eyes. John shook his head, no, he didn't know, he knew nothing about what they were doing. Was it love? Was Sherlock just passing the time?

"You are a work of art, John, a masterpiece yet to be created. I'm going stain you, I'm going to paint you with your own blood and cum and sweat."

Johns mouth would have fallen open, if it weren't already forced apart. His pupils dilated to their full extent, a whimper escaping his parted lips. It sounded beautiful, promising. He wanted that, wanted everything Sherlock would give him.

There was a brief moment of being empty, before the gap is being filled by the hardly foreign object, not unlike the measurements of Sherlocks cock. It's long enough to reach Johns prostrate, but Sherlock doesn't push it all the way in. There's a painfully short distance between to end of the dildo and the raised nerve ending, overwhelming but nowhere near enough.

Then, God. Fucking hell. This was new. All too much but still not sufficient, never satisfying. Fuck, less than a minute into the vibrations and it was already torturous. Sherlocks hand was around the base, moving it in and out, always stopping before the vibrations could graze across his prostrate.

John began to squirm, wriggling about as much as the ropes would allow. Moans and whimpers muffled by the gag, spilling and tumbling from his mouth. It wasn't fair! He was so achingly hard. His bloodshot erection flat against his stomach, begging for attention that would not come. He tried pushing down onto the vibrator, but he couldn't. It wasn't enough, but it was too much.

Sherlocks eyes moved over and over Johns body, mesmerised by the breathtaking sight of him struggling. Already, a thin film of sweat was laid across Johns heated skin. The blood from his crack lips was slowly edging its way down his chin. It took everything Sherlock had in him to not lick and bite at the glistening skin, to not ravish John with kisses and those long fingers of his. To just watch and wait for John to be so far gone he didn't remember anything else than the sensation of Sherlock fucking him with the vibrator.

"I'm going to destroy you again and again; each time I will put you back together just to destroy you again. I will defile you in every way you can imagine and more. I will white out everything else until all you know is pain, pleasure and me." Sherlock whispered in Johns ear, giving the lobe a delicate nibble. His finger pressed the second button, turning the rate of vibrations up. John screamed against his gag, his whole body shaking.

Sherlock moved away, hand leaving the base, leaving it to vibrate inside John without movement. John whimpered, the extra pressure Sherlock provided suddenly gone.

"I'm going out. I'll be back in an hour or so. When I return, I will allow you to come." Sherlock slipped out of the room, door closing behind him.

Two hours later, and Sherlock had not returned. John was on the edge of passing out, eyes going black, only to be brought back by the sensation the buzzing inside of him.

His wrists and thighs were burning, the jagged rope cutting into his skin. The blood from his lips had fallen to his chest and stomach, mixing with sweat and salvia. It was all too much.

Four hours. That's how long Sherlock was away. He came home to silence. He walked into the bedroom, to find John passed out, still rock hard.

When John woke up, the vibrations were gone and he felt empty. The ropes were absent too, but he still felt them, like they are permanently etched into him. Sherlock was sitting in the chair again, watching.

John found the gag had been removed when his jaw clicked and he could speak.

"Is my punishment over?"

"Yes, you did well. I shouldn't have left you for so long." Sherlock stood up, crouching next to the bed.

"Can I come? Please sir." John whimpered, the weight of his erection suddenly rushing back. Sherlocks hand wrapped around Johns cock, pumping slowly.

Slow was not was John needed, he needed fast and now. Picking up speed and thumbing the slit, Sherlock quickly brought John to a painful bliss. The strings of come landing over Sherlocks fingers, which he then mercilessly licked clean.

"Now, have you learnt your lesson, John?" Sherlock said, standing up and walking around to the other side of the bed. John nodded.

"Tell me, what did you learn?"

"I am not allowed to flirt with other people, I should not get a persons number." John choked out, eyes watching Sherlock.

"Why is that? Why do you think I don't allow that?"

"Because I'm yours and you don't want to share."

Sherlock climbing onto the bed, pulling John into his arms. He relaxed, pressed against Sherlock. He was so tired, so wreaked.

"Sleep, John. I've got you." Sherlock soothed, hand moving up and down his back reassuringly. John fell asleep in seconds, not fully hearing what Sherlock said, but mumbling out a heartfelt reply.

"I love you."  
"I love you too."


End file.
